


War, History, Politics, and Other Misfortunes

by hithelleth



Category: Revolution (TV), The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Professors, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-31 00:26:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3957547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hithelleth/pseuds/hithelleth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt: Lincoln and Bellamy as college professors, possibly of history. Possibly with a special guest appearance by Bass from Revolution. Or any other hot but nerdy scenario that floats your boat. Bonus points if one or more of them is wearing glasses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	War, History, Politics, and Other Misfortunes

**Author's Note:**

> I filled this prompt for Bea2me/[BeaRyan](http://archiveofourown.org/users/BeaRyan/pseuds/BeaRyan) on tumblr ages ago, but I realised I've never posted it here, so why not do it now, in case more people might enjoy it.

“You’ve gotta admit war has become more sophisticated as the time progressed,” Bellamy insisted as he sat down in the faculty common room. “There is a big difference between a coordinated offensive with launch missiles and a hoard of screaming half-naked men wielding axes.”

Lincoln sprawled in the chair beside him, checking if his sunglasses were still on their on top of his head, which seemed their nearly permanent place regardless of the weather.

“Difference, sure. But what _you_ gotta admit is that it used to be a lot fairer the less ‘developed’,” Lincoln made air quotes with his fingers, “society was.”

They have been debating the subject matter for a while now.

“What do you say, professor Monroe?” Bellamy addressed the senior associate professor, a civil war expert, hoping to get some support.

The latter sighed, lowering the newspaper he has been reading on the table with a frown, as if resenting it hasn’t hid him well enough from the younger colleagues. He sent the twosome a glare over the thin-rimmed glasses perching on his nose, but before he could respond, a female spoke from behind Bellamy’s back.

“What professor Monroe will say is that war was more elegant in the early new age, with swords and cavalry.” Dr. Foster from the political science department, an epitome of elegance herself – Bellamy had to remind himself she was probably old enough to be his mother, so he really, really shouldn’t be getting any ideas – was leaning against the counter, waiting for the coffee machine to finish brewing her latte.

“Kelly.” Monroe flashed one of his ice-cold smiles. “That’s what you politicians would say. But I have to disagree. Every foot soldier, from a prehistoric tribesman with an axe to a marine with a semi-automatic anywhere in the world right now, will tell you there is absolutely nothing elegant about war.”

Foster knew well enough to let it go, picking up her drink and joining him at the table. “Whatever you say, Sebastian.”

She put out her hand. “Give me a few pages?”

Monroe flipped through the newspaper, separating it into two parts, keeping the one he was reading to himself and handing her the rest.

He looked at Bellamy and Lincoln. “Now, if you two could shut up about it or take it elsewhere… I came here to enjoy my lunch break in silence before I have to face yet another class of kids who can’t grasp the concept of hundreds and thousands of poor sods getting screwed over because the orders from some bloke using silver cutlery on the battle field didn’t get to them in time – not to listen to your bickering.”

Bellamy and Lincoln shared a look.

It was the same every year, or at least those last three Bellamy was on the staff: Monroe would complain about his students’ lacking ability of understanding, but he was the one whose classes were packed with awed, albeit slightly terrified, students.

Considering it best to drop the subject, Bellamy pushed his glasses higher on his nose and turned to Lincoln: “Hey, have you heard from O?”

“No. You?”

“Nope.” Bellamy wrinkled his forehead.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” said Lincoln.

“She better be, because it’s your damn fault she’s digging holes in the ground in some godforsaken place in Peru.”

“How is that my fault?” Lincoln demanded.

“She sure as hell didn’t get the idea to study archaeology from me,” Bellamy retorted.

It was an old argument that never made him feel any better, no matter how many times he repeated the accusations.

“Don’t be fooled, Blake. Linc is just as concerned as you, he’s just better at playing it cool,” Monroe jumped in.

“And he would know. Still crashes over at his friend when his wife is out of town. And calls her at least, what is it, two, three, five times a day?” Foster teased. “Oh, I think it’s sweet,” she added as Monroe scowled at her.

Monroe pushed back his chair and stood up. “Well, I better go and sort out the material for my next class, since it seems I won’t get any peace and quiet in here. Gentlemen. Kelly.”

He nodded at the named parties, striding out of the room.

“Yeah, I’d better go over some things, too.” Lincoln unfolded himself from the chair, following Monroe’s example.

“Me too,” hurried Bellamy. He certainly wasn’t staying alone in the room with Kelly Foster.


End file.
